Patriotic Surprise

I am not America's proudest citizen. While I admire the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence for their eloquence, their rhetoric, and their ideas, I don't understand patriotism. It seems dangerously close to nationalism to me. Admittedly, there are some perks to being an American, and especially, I have been discovering over and over again the last year, to being born white and in the middle class of America. 
         Generally, my issues with being an American stem from traveling with other Americans. I discovered while living in France in the nineties that the French are right to be rude to us. We deserve it. When Americans travel, they're big - either their actual physical size or because of all the luggage and crap they carry with them. When the French travel, they keep their entire person and their luggage contained to the foot width of the seat they are traveling in. Americans, instead, act like they own the whole train, and treat all neighboring seats as their own: the one across for their feet, the ones next to them for their numerous bags. 
         It's a negative psychological side effect from being raised with the notion of manifest destiny. 
         And yes, I'm grossly over generalizing. 
        Kind of. Not so much that generally when I travel, I wish for a Canadian Maple Leaf patch to attach to all my luggage, like the Canadians do - so that people don't assume they are American. 
          This doesn't even begin to get into the atrocities of the first decade of this century when it was a terrible time to be American. Or that when Kent and I traveled to Africa in 2005, a near homeless man in Dakar told us how sorry he was about President Bush and how he may be poor, black and in Africa, but he considered himself better off than anyone living under Bush. Ouch. 
           Thanks to Obama, I am relieved that I can now travel and not be embarrassed by my passport, yet I am still occasionally embarrassed by fellow Americans. I still have moments when I'm in a cafe, and there, inevitably, is an American, wearing bright red, and loudly asking the waiter if he knows how to perform functions on her computer. Or a rather large woman yells across the restaurant for the waiter. I just want to crawl under the table.
         But I don't. Instead, I tell Kent, dear God, Americans, the obesity, the entitlement, the arrogance. Sometimes I don't know if I can take it. 
         Or during our last Visa run to Singapore, we stayed in a place with American cable. We were watching the travel channel. Anthony Bourdain sat in a Chicago pizzeria, with a piece of pizza the size of a casserole in front of him. He asked his host, who on earth eats a piece of pizza this size? The camera panned the room; it was entirely full of people who fit into the increasing percentage of America's obese. I had never seen so many big people in one place.
         Kent, I said, we can't go back there. 

         So I found myself rather surprised the other night, when a woman from Europe started loudly making fun of America's obese. I felt like I did as a child on the playground and some one else started picking on my little sister, like it's okay for me to make fun of America's bad traits, but who the hell do you think you are? That's my country. But I didn't say anything. I was speechless, as much by my surprised response to her accusations as by her, well, whatever that is. Also, I knew I couldn't say anything without coming across as a total and complete bitch. Tempting as it was to point out that I'm American. I'm a size 2, and what size is she again? No, nothing good would come of it. 

But it is a conundrum, obesity in general, as well as America's increasing rate and the UK's, Australia's is on the rise too. And eating crap is not unique to Americans. Though I do suspect we are the ones who started it. When I lived in Singapore, I so rarely saw a woman over a size 6, that if I did, my neck cracked because I turned my head so fast. They stand out there. At least if they’re Asian or Singaporean. Whereas, for white women – from the US, UK or Australia – a size 6 was the norm, or even on the smaller side.
Yet, despite claims at home that America no longer exports products, when you walk into any grocery store in Singapore – or Indonesia, Cambodia, or Thailand – you can find all the American junk food you’ve never wanted at home. You can be in a remote village in Cambodia and still have sour cream and chives flavored Pringles potato chips. Or Coco-cola. Or Oreos.  I guess obesity was an idea America thought worth exporting.
            Or not. As I could not walk into a store in Singapore without having a stranger offer my infant – then toddler – son candy. I understand now why the rest of the world has bad teeth. It’s not just Americans who are addicted to sugar. Even the people I’ve met traveling who have claimed to be grossed out by the increasingly staggering obesity, I’ve also seen desperate for Oreos and cherry flavored Coke.  However, while Asia suffers from other health issues that result from nutritional deficiencies, they remain thin. Kent and I wondered often how is it that one group of people on the planet end up so much bigger than another? Or do white people just have bad metabolisms? Except the French are white and their women are thin. There goes that theory.
            Anyway, America’s fat and getting fatter, and while we can pat ourselves on the back for inspiring Australia and the UK to follow suit, we’re still the biggest ones in the class, and the fat kids always get made fun of – even if they act like bullies from time to time.
            So while I kind of resented said European lady poking fun at the uglier side of America, as if we were the only ones who had health issues (Kent muttered, "Can't think of the last time I saw someone from England glowing with health." But I pointed out Gwyneth Paltrow - but she's kind of a hybrid, but Richard Branson glows.) I have to admit that it can be hard to be proud of being from a country where fat is the first thing they think of when they see your flag. On the other hand, I remember that when Obama won the 2008 election, there were celebrations all over the world, yet when the UK got a new prime minister in the form of David Cameron, half of its own citizens didn’t even notice. Not that I want to get into a tit for tat kind of contest. I just realized that there is something kind of cool about being part of an election and a country that literally impacts the entire world. When companies in Asia want credibility, they stamp “Meets US standards” on their products. Or that while Americans may be obese, other countries still envy our dentistry.  I remember too, that I talked to a man in Cambodia who desperately wanted to go to the US for the sake of his daughters, that if they stayed in Siam Reap, they had few options for their futures, but if they went to America, they could have a college education – even if it was at a community college. And finally, Kent and I pulled into our house, and saw that our gardener had an Obama sticker on the back of his motorbike. I decided that was pretty cool.